Sweet Stuff Read Free Page B

seem to even notice them. Of course, things like that were probably par for the course for his lifestyle.
    He was opening cupboards and pulling out drawers, but she doubted he was taking inventory. “Not much to work with here,” he murmured.
    “I’ve got it.” Riley stepped around the center island and walked over to the small breakfast nook table and the three-tier crystal cupcake display. She grabbed a few of the color-coordinated napkins that were artfully arranged next to the themed paper plates and plastic forks, then edged back around the center island to the twin stainless-steel sinks. “Really, you should take a look—”
    “Here.” He came right up behind her just as she’d turned on the water and shoved a wadded-up napkin underneath the steady stream.
    As in, right behind her. Deep in her personal space. Like she hadn’t just recently recovered her ability to breathe normally.
    “Let me.” Quinn put one broad palm on her shoulder and turned her to face him, relieving her of the soggy party napkins with his other hand, which he used to carefully dab at the scratches on her cheek and her forehead. And her chin. And her neck.
    How lovely that must look.
    She couldn’t think about that. Unless she closed her eyes, there was nowhere else to look but directly into his, and though he was busy attending to her wounds and not really looking at her ... she couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to look at him. Really look at him.
    And, up close? He looked even better. Every laugh line, every crinkle, even with a tiny scar just above one temple ... he was truly and spectacularly gorgeous. So unfair. Even scratch-free, she wouldn’t hold up to the same up-close-and-personal perusal. For one, she had freckles. And not that faint little scatter you got from being out in the sun. No, she had real freckles. Thirty-one years old. With freckles. Not adorable at that age. Then there was the whole mouth situation. Hers was wide and full, just not in that sexy and mysterious Angelina Jolie kind of way. Instead of a vampy pout that did wonders for selling lipstick and lingerie, Riley’s was sort of perpetually curved in a big, goofy smile. At best, good for selling bubble gum.
    She always looked like she was smiling, which shouldn’t be a bad thing. But just try being taken seriously in an editorial meeting full of men when no matter how much you tried on your stern, I-mean-business face, you always looked like a brainless bimbo. Dolly Parton looked fiercer than she did.
    And don’t even get her started on being a natural blonde. With curls. Lots of them. Long or short didn’t matter. Her hair fell in big, happy, springy sproings no matter what. No one took that seriously, either. No matter how sleek a bun she’d torture her hair into, curls sprang out to frame her apple-cheeked, freckled face. Throw in the bombshell-sized boobs, with a back porch to match and ... yeah. Maybe slim, perfectly coiffed ice princess blondes got respect, but she couldn’t pull off even a hint of that kind of frost. Smiley, sproingy, and stacked never added up to frost. No matter how you did the math. And that had been before factoring in a year’s worth of Cupcake Club get-togethers.
    “There,” he said, with a final dab.
    “Thanks.” She felt herself flush as his eyes finally met hers.
    The corners of his eyes crinkled ever-so-fabulously as he smiled. “Least I could do.”
    “Right.” She heard the breathy note in her voice. She needed to get out of his personal space, pronto, or get him out of hers, before she made an even bigger fool of herself. If that were possible. “I mean, no worries. It was just one of those things. Could have happened to anyone.” She took a step back, banged her hip into the counter, then turned with the intent of putting herself anywhere but in proximity to him and caught the edge of the refrigerator handle where it jutted out just a bit farther than the cabinets and counters. “Oooh,